


The Opening

by Rumaan



Category: SKAM (TV)
Genre: Confessions, Drama, F/M, Mutual Pining, Religion, Religious Content, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-11 07:04:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11143326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rumaan/pseuds/Rumaan
Summary: With his mind in chaos, Yousef can't forget Sana's words about prayer.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a real departure for me. I usually do not write anything surrounding religion or reference my own religious beliefs in any of my works but this idea has grown steadily throughout today until I needed to write it. In this fic (and generally in my headcanon for my own happy Yousana endgame reasons), I interpret Yousef as having a crisis of faith and Sana's words in the epic scene at the end of 4.04 having a profound impact on him that bring him to where he is in this fic. So bear in mind this fic has religious content and if that's not your thing then go no further!

Yousef hesitated on the threshold of the Mosque. He still wasn’t sure why he was here, but there had been something pulling him in this direction all morning.

 _Longer_ , he thought and realised it was true. He’d wanted to come here since a Friday night over a month ago. Since he’d sat enthralled on the side of a basketball court and listened as Sana had told him just what Islam and prayer meant to her.

At first he’d been angry at his desire to come here. Wasn’t he done with religion after all? Hadn’t he decided that it all caused was division and strife and he rejected that with every fibre of his body? Yet why the desire to come to the Mosque? So he’d pushed the feeling away and allowed the anger to bubble up hotly inside him. It hadn’t kept him away from karaoke bar the following fateful Friday. He hadn’t been able to bury the need to lay eyes on Sana; to see that radiant smile that lit up everything around her. However, the first thing he’d seen was Even and all the reasons for why he had turned his back on the religion of his birth had flooded back. It hadn’t helped when Isak punched Mikael and Elias had jumped in making all those reasons crystal clear. Religion caused confrontation and violence and he had no patience with either.

So he’d gone and fetched Sana, allowing his hand to rest on her shoulder for one brief sweet moment before the rage returned and sat heavy in his stomach, making him feel irritation that this one girl could make him query decisions he’d made a year ago.

That annoyance had led to questionable choices he’d regretted ever since. He should have returned outside and helped Sana end the fight, calmed Elias down and made sure that everyone was fine. Instead, he’d flung back a shot of tequila in a fit of temper and allowed Sana’s friend to kiss him.

Nothing had felt right ever since.

So here he was. The very place he’d been running from that day, which was ironic. However, he could not dismiss Sana’s words from his mind about how prayer cleared her mind and helped make sense of the chaos around her. He needed that right now. Craved the need for some peace and clarity about everything, especially when it came to Sana.

Taking a deep breath, Yousef took a step into the Mosque allowing the cool and quiet atmosphere to wash over him as he padded across the carpet. This had been his favourite place to come as a child especially during this time of the year. How Ramadan made the place seem so much more than in other months. He was the oldest sibling and therefore the first to come and he’d enjoyed how grown up it had made him. To stand in prayer with all the men. One by one, his father had brought his other siblings and Yousef had taken the responsibility of showing them how to act in the Mosque seriously. How they should sit quietly and not fidget too much. How they should follow the Imam in prayer and not jump ahead even if the Imam was reciting a really long Sura. He smiled faintly at his remembrances and automatically headed to the bathrooms and the wudhu area.

Once his ablutions were made, the call for Asr prayer had been made and a few dozen men were lining up behind the Imam to pray. Yousef slotted himself into their ranks, and pushed away the guilt of feeling like a fraud, concentrating instead on how confidently Sana had proclaimed that Allah never turned his back on anyone. He found himself hoping that this was the truth. That it was never too late.

Folding his arms and bowing his head, he allowed the familiarity of prayer to fill his mind. As he began to internally recite _Al-Fatiha,_ moisture began to pool in his eyes and the feeling of being home flooded through him along with the realisation that he had never truly left this behind. Maybe that was why he had never quite been able to throw away all of his upbringing and start drinking and eating pork. There had been a little kernel left in him that had refused to shift. Instead, it had started to sprout and unfurl it’s leaves that night a month ago when Sana had calmly yet so passionately stated just what Islam meant to her.

Once Asr prayer was completed, a sense of ease settled in Yousef and his mind felt clearer than it had for a month. There was a clarity there and a sense of knowing how and why his actions had been so contrary recently. Why he had kissed Noora despite being in love with Sana. Why he had been observing Ramadan this year despite saying he was no longer Muslim. It was as if two halves of himself had been at war without him realising and now he was aware and able to knit them back together to make him whole once more.

Leaving the Mosque, after greeting acquaintances who smiled brightly and remarked that it had been a long time since he had been in for prayers, Yousef checked his phone. There was a message from Elias – an invitation to iftar tomorrow night. The Bakkoushes always invited Elias’ friends for iftar at least once a year. Not that the boys didn’t end up for staying for iftar more often than that each Ramadan. But this was the formal invitation that was extended each year.

Yousef smiled. It felt like providence. Prayer had helped him come to a conclusion regarding Sana. How he needed to talk to her, be open about his feelings and let her know just how much she meant to him. He also needed to come clean about kissing Noora and apologise. Let her know that it had been a moment of weakness born out of rage and hope that she forgave him. Maybe if he was able to talk to her, to let her know how he felt, she might look at him once more and give him that heart stopping smile. The one he hadn’t truly seen for over a month.

With purpose in his stride, Yousef headed to the market. He always made Imam bayildi for the Bakkoush iftar, knowing it was a favourite in the household. However, this year he would also bring yoğurtlu havuç especially for Sana.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yousef takes a chance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm being driven slowly insane by the lack of communication between Yousef and Sana and the EVEN MORE roadblocks being thrown between them so I decided to write the iftar scene.
> 
> Obviously this is AU by now.

“So are you fasting, Yousef?” Mrs Bakkoush asked him as she stirred the harira and he was spooning his Imam bayildi and yoğurtlu havuç into several small dishes to scatter around the table.

It took all his will power not to turn around and look at where Sana and Jamilla were making salad at the table. He wondered if she was listening to his conversation or was too busy still ignoring him. He hoped it was the former. He wasn’t sure yet just how to let her know

“Yeah,” he said.

Mrs Bakkoush turned and gave him a smile. “That’s good. It’s good to see all you boys fasting this year.”

Yousef rubbed a hand a little self-consciously on the back of his neck and gave her a sheepish smile. He hadn’t fasted last year and hadn’t wanted to lie about when over for Iftar last year. With that and the vodka bottle last month, he knew he wasn’t exactly shining in Mrs Bakkoush’s eyes, which had been evident when she’d sharply called Sana when they’d been outside that Friday.

 _When you had been about to tell her how much you liked her,_ he said to himself, undecided as to whether the interruption had been a good or a bad thing. The next day, when he’d gone to message Sana, still on a high from the hours spent together, he had discovered that she’d blocked him. She had been getting steadily colder ever since.

Not that he hadn’t been trying to stay away himself. All the mixed up feelings Sana brought out in him had left his thoughts whirling around his head like a chaotic mess until yesterday. When he’d finally given in and gone to the place that had been calling out to him for weeks. The Mosque.

Now, with his thoughts no longer swirling around, he could breathe.

Peeking over his shoulder for a brief moment, he could see that Sana had her head down, chopping cucumber. She wasn’t talking to Jamilla, who was texting someone on her phone. He hadn’t been able to talk to Sana directly, but maybe if he could explain to Mrs Bakkoush then she would hear and understand.

“Yeah, I kind of fell away from the _deen_ over the past year. I was struggling with some questions about how it fits into the life we lead in Norway and the friends we make here, but then someone helped me put it all into perspective. Just how Allah fits into everything and how complex this world he has made is. For example, did you know the cockroach has nine different antibiotic molecules in its brain that are stronger than any penicillin we’ve created?”

Yousef made sure he focused solely on Mrs Bakkoush, forcing himself to keep his eyes away from Sana. He wasn’t being subtle and Sana would know everything if she was listening.

 _Please let her be listening,_ he thought.

Beaming, Mrs Bakkoush said, “I did not know that. And we all go through struggles with our faith, Yousef, but it’s good that you didn’t turn away. Sometimes that can feel like the easiest option when _Shaytan_ tempts us into doubt.”

He looked down at where he’d finished serving his dishes. “Is there anything you need help with, _khalto_?”

“If you could help lay the table that would be great. Elias was meant to be doing it, but that boy is as ditzy as his father and is probably still outside. Sana, leave the salad now, I can finish that off. You help Yousef put all the completed dishes on the table.”

He allowed his eyes to find Sana’s then and for a moment he caught the glimpse of unguarded emotion on her face as her eyes meet his and he could see that she was shaken before she schooled her face once more into a neutral expression.

“Of course, Mama,” Sana said, putting the knife down and grabbing a couple of small plates filled with stuffed dates and taking them through into the dining room, where the bigger table was.

Yousef followed, his heart pounding uncomfortably in his chest. He wanted to speak up, to tell her how much he liked her, how he didn’t doubt that she was his soulmate. But at the same time, she had blocked him on Facebook and it wasn’t right to push her when she didn’t feel the same.

“You’re fasting?”

The question jolted him out the mental conflict he was having. “Er…yeah.”

“And did you mean all that you just said to Mama or were you just trying to get back into her good books.”

He couldn’t smother the smile her aggressive question brought to his lips. He loved how Sana refused to dissimilate or soften herself for anyone else. She would not play into stereotypes of how Muslim girls should talk or be. She was unapologetically herself.

“No, I meant it.”

He watched as her shoulders visibly relaxed and the taunt expression was driven from her face. Her eyes flew to his and there was something almost desperate in them that had him wanting to do nothing more than stride across the floor to her, put his hands on her shoulders and tell her how much he adored her. But he couldn’t pressure her like that. What if she was just happy to see him come back to Islam?

“Really?” she asked.

“That conversation we had that Friday, it changed things for me, Sana. Opened something up inside me that I thought was gone.”

A smile blossomed on her face and he blinked in the sheer radiance of it and the next words fell out his mouth unchecked. “I like you. I like you a lot and I can’t keep quiet about it anymore. I don’t want to pressure you but I have to let you know.”

“But Noora,” Sana said. “You’re dating Noora. I saw you at SYNG that night and the boys said they saw you in the park with her.”

His stomach twisted up at her words and his heart sank. How had he managed to mess this up so much? Then hope bloomed in his chest. Maybe this was why she’d been so cold recently? Even if it didn’t explain her blocking him on Facebook.

He stepped forward with his hands up in denial. “No! No, I’m not dating Noora. I made a mistake that night. She kissed me and I just let her for a moment but I broke it off. I’m not interested in Noora. I mean, she seems like a nice enough girl but I could never be interested in her. Not when you are around.”

Mentally reviewing his words, he closed his eyes in agony. When he had pictured telling Sana how much he liked her he had imagined he would confess his feelings calmly. Not in this frenzied manner as he attempted to recover from that one huge mistake he had made.

“You’re not dating Noora?” she asked, her voice much softer than he’d heard in a long while.

Opening his eyes again, he looked at her. “No. There’s only one person I want to date.”

She took a step towards him and he reached out his hand towards her.

“Sana, _habiba_ , where are you?!” Mrs Bakkoush called from the kitchen. “The Briouats are ready to be fried.”

They stared at each other mutely for a second before Sana turned towards the door. However, she stopped and hesitated for a moment before spinning back around.

“I like you, too,” she said in a breathless rushed voice.

Yousef could do nothing but gape after her as she ran back to the kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary:  
> Harira - traditional Moroccan soup eaten during Ramadan (and other times of the year but especially during Ramadan)  
> Deen - religion/Islam  
> Khalto - aunt in Arabic, commonly used towards adults older than you. I've got Yousef calling Mama Bakkoush aunt in Arabic rather than in Turkish as I think all the Balloon Squad would call her this.  
> Shaytan - the devil  
> Habiba - darling - Moroccan Arabic tends to use habiba instead habibti (or my Moroccan friends do anyway!)  
> Briouats - fried pastries usually filled with cheese or seafood or meat. Very commonly served for iftar in Moroccan households.

**Author's Note:**

> Few Glossary terms:  
> Asr - Afternoon prayer  
> Sura - verse of Al-Qur'an  
> Al-Fatiha - opening verse of Al-Qur'an which translates as The Opening which is also the title of this fic.  
> Ramadan - Muslim month of fasting  
> Iftar - the meal that breaks your fast  
> Imam bayildi - famous Turkish aubergine/eggplant dish which is delicious and you should try it  
> Yoğurtlu Havuç - translates as carrot salad/dip. I've never eaten this so cannot recommend but this cannot be a Yousana (ish) fic with no mention of carrots lbr!
> 
> Also you can find me over on [tumblr](http://rumaan.tumblr.com/) if you so wish. I'm currently only running a queue as it's Ramadan.


End file.
